


A Slight Change of Plans

by JehanetteProuvaire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Rescue Missions, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanetteProuvaire/pseuds/JehanetteProuvaire
Summary: When a German woman comes to Peggy with information on what her husband has been doing, Peggy knows she'll have to pull Steve away from stopping HYDRA, at least for a little while.





	A Slight Change of Plans

It was dangerous work, but that was what made it worth doing. If just anyone could have done it, anyone would have done it, and Steve would have been perfectly content to let them. It wasn’t work just anyone could have done, though. If ordinary men had been sent out here, they’d have been killed, and Steve wasn’t about to let that happen. Not on his watch.

(Besides, most men were needed to fight the actual German army. He and the Howling Commandos were about all that could be spared.)

It was necessary work, too. That made it even more worthwhile.

* * *

It was cold -- it usually was at the end of February -- but instead of snow a steady drizzle was falling. The cloudy sky gave them ideal cover, but that didn’t make the rain dripping down anyone’s collars one degree warmer.

Steve crouched under a tree. Just behind him, Bucky muffled a sneeze.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve murmured. “I don’t want to be caught out because you got a cold.”

Bucky didn’t reply, at least not with words. He was probably giving Steve a sharp look, though, maybe with an equally sharp gesture to accompany it.

Steve didn’t turn to check. 

“All right,” he said. “Everyone remembers the plan?”

From behind him and to his sides came a murmur of assent. Steve let out a breath he hadn’t quite realized he was holding. He trusted his comrades, but all the same, it was a relief to know they all knew exactly what they had to do. It was too late to go back now, and much too late to change anything. If they were going to act -- and they had to act -- they would need to act now.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

They had worked out the plan weeks before, huddled in the barn of a French resistance fighter. Her daughter would slip in and out to make sure they hadn’t frozen to death (and, Jim said, because she had a crush on Gabe), and they would all fall silent when she entered. Jacques, the one of them who spoke French the best, would assure her they were all right, and she would vanish again.

“We can trust her,” Gabe said after the third time she left, when Dugan stepped to the window to make sure she was really gone. “She’s a good kid.”

“You only say that because she’s charming,” Dugan said, but he left the window alone after that.

Even with the interruptions, they were able to work out a plan before end of the night and even managed to get a few hours of sleep. They would start at the southern end of the compound and work northward, making their way as far as they could go before they ran into too much resistance. Any armed guards or searchlights would be dealth with as quickly and quietly as possible. Gabe (who spoke German the best) would be their mouth if they needed one, though hopefully they’d be able to communicate what they had to without speaking at all.

Bucky stretched, looking down at the rough map Steve had drawn in chalk on the floor. There were lines for each of them, so they could make their way through the compound without running into each other. What was most important, Steve had said, was that they try to get through as much of it as they could, not leaving any part out. It was a loose plan, but they best they had.

“You’re sure you don’t want to bring Agent Carter along?” he asked. “A pretty face tends to disarm anyone.”

“Agent Carter as her own work to do.” And it was a good thing, too. It was one thing to want her by his side and to know she was more than capable of looking after herself but quite another to invite her to make up a group of about half a dozen on a raid against armed soldiers. “She’ll help how she can.” She knew about the plan, of course, and approved of it. Just about all the top brass did.

“And Stark?”

“He’ll help too, in his way.”

He had better. The plan relied as much on him as on any of them, perhaps more so.

* * *

There were guards on the southern wall. That was no surprise; if anything, it would have been unsettling if there had been none. Dugan took them down with one shot each, and from there, there really was no turning back.

They worked in silence, doing their best to make the sounds of the guns the only noises heard from them. Jim and Gabe had the grappling guns, and once they were fired, Steve and Bucky made their way up the wall to set up the ropes that would let them down the other side. They were met by no one, but they still moved quickly, hoping they wouldn’t run into a group of soldiers making their way along the wall.

Two by two they landed, with Dugan and Jacques bringing up the rear. For a moment, the six of them looked at one another, and then they split up, eaching heading their own direction. Once they were apart, Steve could only trust that they knew what they were doing.

He did trust them. He just had to remember to trust himself as much.

Steve had taken the westernmost path, the one that would take him closest to the watchtower. The only person who would come even as close to one was Jim, and he had promised to move quickly. No one knew whether that would do any good, but at least it was something.

What was even better was the fact that he was armed, like they all were.

Steve’s path not only by the watchtower but also by the first building any of them would encounter. As he drew closer, he slowed a little, feeling some strange mix of respect and disgust. People had died here. They had been moving past their bodies since they went over the wall. Even so, seeing what had been used to destroy the bodies carried a different weight.

He came almost to a stop, unable to take his gaze off the crematorium.

* * *

The first notion that something ought to be done came from, of all people, a German woman. She came to their camp in trousers and boots, her brown hair bound up in braids pinned to her hair, her hands held high in the air. One clutched a white handkerchief which she waved listlessly over her head.

Steve heard about all that later, from the men who had seen her and brought her in. What he heard first came from Peggy, who came right to him after seeing the woman settled with a clean set of clothes and a cup of tea.

“There’s someone you need to meet,” she said.

“Take me to him,” he said at once. There was no denying the severity on Peggy’s face. (There would have been no denying any of her expressions.)

“Her,” she corrected. “Her name is Imke Amsel. She’s German, but she speaks English well enough to be understood. She has news, and once you hear it, I think you’ll agree that HYDRA can wait.”

She spoke briskly, as she often did, and it would have been easy to just nod and go along with everything she said. The mention of HYDRA being something that could wait took him aback, though, and he slowed a bit. “What do you mean? A more pressing danger than HYDRA?”

Peggy nodded. “You’ll understand when you hear her. She can explain better than I can.”

Peggy brought him to a tent and showed him in. It was small, and the only occupant was a young woman with fair hair. A blanket draped over her shoulders partly hid the fact that her clothes were too large for her, and Steve’s first impulse was to have her lie down so she could have the blanket keep her warm while she slept. She looked wan, almost faint, as though the cup of tea in her hands was all she’d eaten that day.

She looked up when they entered and smiled faintly at Peggy. “This is what you drink?” she asked, holding up the cup. “It is very bad. I would be happier French than English.”

Peggy’s smile was as tense and faint as the young woman’s. “It tastes better in London.”

The young woman murmured something in German, and her cheeks turned bright pink. Against the pallor of before, the color looked almost unhealthy. She recovered quickly from whatever emotion she was feeling, though, and turned her attention to Steve. “Who is this?”

Peggy’s smile vanished at once, and she was all business again. “This is Captain Steve Rogers, the man I told you about. Steve, this is Frau Imke Amsel.”

Steve bent his head in an awkward cross between a nod and a little bow. Imke blinked up at him before setting her tea down. “Sit, if you want,” she said. “I have a lot to say.”

“I’ll be back to check in on you two in a bit,” Peggy said, and she stepped away before Steve could so much as ask whether she wanted to stay. The tent flap slipped closed behind her, and the two of them were alone.

Well, not really alone. There were two guards standing outside, both armed, and Imke didn’t look as though she wanted to fight anyway. She didn’t look as though she could.

(There were other things to worry about than fighting.)

Imke sat still, watching him. She didn’t move until Steve sat as well. The tent was small enough that his knee almost touched hers. She hardly seemed to notice, but he had to fight the urge to draw back from her.

“Peg -- I mean, Agent Carter said you had something to tell me,” he said, to break the silence.

The words were enough to break whatever spell had been sitting on her. Imke leaned forward, her blue eyes wide, and began to speak.

“I hear this from my husband,” she said. “He tells me because I am gentle and good and love him. And he loves me.” She stopped for a moment, her lips twisting as though to keep from crying. It was only for a moment, however, and when she spoke again, her voice was clear and calm. The only sign of distress she had was in her hands, twisting in her lap. “He works in a… a prison? That is not the word, but I do not know what to call it in English. A place, where men are brought to die. Men, and women, and children.

“He tells me it is for the good of Germany that he does it, but…” She paused again, her mouth twisting once more. “People are killed there. Good people, who never did wrong in their lives. My friend…” Another pause, and this time when she went on, her voice trembled. “My friend is Jewish. Was, maybe. If she is alive I have not seen her in months.”

A chill ran down Steve’s spine. “How many places like this are there?”

Imke shrugged. She seemed hardly able to speak. “Many, maybe. More than the one. I only know about this one.”

“How much did your husband tell you?”

“Much. Too much.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. “Frau Carter says you will decide what to do, if there is anything to do. Is there?”

There was still HYDRA to worry about, and whatever their plans were, but all Steve could think of now was Imke, crying openly, and her friend who was either dead or suffering. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. “I have people who will help me.”

The relief breaking across her face was strong enough that Steve nearly felt it himself. “Thank you,” she said. “I did not know what to do, or if I could do anything, but now… if I’ve helped her… I will do anything.”

The tent flap shifted, but Steven thought nothing of it until he heard Peggy’s voice. “Are you all right, Steve?”

He wasn’t. Nothing was. Even so, there was nothing he could say but, “Yes.”

“Do you need any more time with her?”

Imke was crying harder now. Her sobs were silent, but one hand was pressed over her mouth as though keeping them in. She hadn’t closed her eyes, but she seemed to stare at nothing.

“No,” Steve said, “but I’d like Gabe to talk to her.” Whatever she knew about this… this death camp would be easier for her to share in German (if it could be easy for her to talk about it at all), and if he was going, he wanted at least one of the Commandos to have firsthand knowledge.

“I’ll bring him in next,” Peggy said.

Steve started to rise, but before he could get all the way to his feet, Imke grabbed his hand, holding him tighter than he would have expected. “Please,” she whispered. “Find her.”

“I will,” he said. “I’ll bring her back to you.”

With that, she let him go. Steve left the tent, still shaken, and fell into step beside Peggy. Where she was going, he didn’t know. He hardly knew where he was going, only that he had to go _somewhere _.__

__“So?” Peggy said. “What do you think?”_ _

__“I think HYDRA can wait a little while.”_ _

* * *

__Destroying the incinerator wouldn’t do anything. Steve knew that even as he drew out a grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin. It wouldn’t bring anyone back, wouldn’t free anyone, wouldn’t do anything more than bring everyone’s attention to him and alert the Nazis that there were intruders in their death camp, if they didn’t know already._ _

__Even so, he felt a grim sense of satisfaction at rolling the grenade toward the hulking oven and seeing it explode. If Imke’s friend had already been fed to it, then he was destroying it for her. If she hadn’t, then there wasn’t a chance she ever would._ _

__Steve ducked behind his shield as shrapnel pinged off it. The others knew this was part of the plan. They should already have been moving as fast as they could, but if they hadn’t, they would start now. They were living on borrowed time now, and the clock would be ticking busily away._ _

__A shout went up. It was something in German that Steve didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter. He was already running back to the south wall, through the graves, another grenade in his hand. This one was one of Stark’s, and it would detonate as soon as it had something solid to attach to. Stark had assured him it wouldn’t attach to anything living but would roll off and remain inert, but he still handled it gingerly until he had to grip it tighter to throw._ _

__It hit the wall perfectly, and barely two seconds later, it had blasted a hole just large enough for one man to pass through. Steve set himself up there, shield ready and a pistol in his right hand, breathing hard but determined._ _

__Years ago, a teacher had mentioned the Spartans at Thermopylae. The reason, she said, three hundred men could hold off an army was that they had found a perfect position. They had bottlenecked themselves so the Persian army couldn’t run at them all at once and swarm them. They set their backs to the wall and fought as though they had nothing to lose._ _

__His own back might as well have been against a wall just now, and he’d bottlenecked himself as best he could. He just hoped this wouldn’t turn into a last stand._ _

__If it did, well, that was what Bucky was for. His friend would never let him down._ _

* * *

__By the time Bucky heard the explosion, he had just about reached the first row of buildings. He burst into a sprint, silently praying that Morita was doing his job down by the east wall. Steve was clearly holding up his end of the bargain. It was time for Bucky to do his._ _

__“Hey!” he yelled, wishing they’d gotten more than basic German lessons from Gabe now. “Everyone out! It’s rescue time!”_ _

__It probably sounded better in German. If nothing else, he’d feel less silly if he only barely understood what he was saying._ _

__The first person to run out to meet him was a German soldier. Bucky had been expecting that, and he was quick with his pistol. A second later, the man was dead._ _

__He heard another explosion then, to the east, and his prayers grew a little more earnest that he hadn’t somehow gotten turned around. He had never really been the praying sort before, but there were no atheists in foxholes._ _

__Whoever’d said that had known what he was talking about._ _

__Bucky still wanted to cold-cock him._ _

__There wasn’t any point in wasting time, so he charged into one of the buildings. It was crammed with people lying on narrow bunks, all of whom froze when they saw him. He couldn’t really blame them; a strange man running in with a gun would alarm anyone, and he didn’t look as distinctively non-German as Gabe or Jim._ _

__He should have been the one at the eastern wall. Jim would be better placed here, but damn him he’d jumped the gun on volunteering._ _

__“Get up,” Bucky said, hoping they’d recognize English when they heard it, or at least be able to tell he wasn’t speaking German. “I’m here to get you out of here. Let’s go.”_ _

__A teenage boy swung his legs out of his bunk. He looked wary and half-starved, but his jaw was set and he looked ready to fight if he had to. “Englisch?” he said, his voice rasping over the word._ _

__Bucky shook his head. “American.”_ _

__The boy’s eyes widened slightly, but that was the only change in his expression. Turning to the others, he said something quickly. Whatever it was stirred them enough to get out of their bunks, but they didn’t leave the building. Instead, they clustered together, watching him._ _

__The boy spoke to Bucky next, but he couldn’t catch any of the words. “Sorry, kid,” he said. “I don’t know.” He shrugged, exaggerating the motion. The boy must have understood, for his face set into something between resignation and annoyance._ _

__But then his eyes widened again, and he lifted his hand. Before Bucky could figure out why, he heard a gunshot. “Shit,” he muttered, and turned, already bracing himself for a bullet ripping through his body (his arm, he prayed, probably using up more divine good will in one night than he’d ever used in a whole year). His pistol was ready, and he was determined to get one good shot. Hopefully Dugan and Gabe would pass by here quick enough to finish up for him._ _

__There wasn’t any need for him to worry. The bullet had stopped in midair, hovering a foot away from him. The German soldier stared at it, stunned._ _

__Bucky wasn’t about to pass up a miracle when one all but leapt up and bit him on the ass. He fired, and the German went down._ _

__“Did you do that?” he asked the boy. The boy only looked at him blankly, but when he lowered his hand, the bullet fell to the ground as well._ _

__He would worry about that later. Right now he already had far too much on his mind._ _

__Gesturing for the others to follow, Bucky charged out of the building, gun at the ready. He couldn’t hear any sounds of them joining him, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw they were right with him, the boy at his elbow. He was a scrawny, Jewish guardian angel, but right now Bucky would take what he could get._ _

__He ran from building to building, rousing whoever he could find. Before long the boy was shouting to the people inside before Bucky could get a word out. He didn’t know what the kid was saying, but it was easy to guess, as the people inside came out warily to join the growing crowd. Before long, people were leaving the group, making their way independently to bring people out._ _

__Bucky started east, but then stopped. The plan was go that way while Steve made a diversion to the south to draw as many of the Nazis as he could, but that plan also involved Steve facing off against who knew how many armed men on his own. He wasn’t the skinny kid from Brooklyn anymore, but just because he could take care of himself didn’t mean Bucky would let him._ _

__He stopped and turned to the boy who had become his shadow. “Could you tell them all to go that way?” he asked, pointing east._ _

__The boy shouted something and started to head in that direction, but before he could get far, Bucky grabbed his shoulder. “You stay with me,” he said, pointing at each of them to try to get his message across. “They’ll go east. We’ll go south. Got it?”_ _

__The boy must have gotten it, for he shouted something different to the people and then looked up at Bucky, frowning. There could have been books written in that frown, but it was too dark for Bucky to make out any of it. The most he could guess at was a threat._ _

___Hurt me and I will destroy you._ _ _

__“Same to you, kid,” Bucky muttered, and he turned south. The boy followed._ _

__Around them, hundreds of starved and desperate men streamed east._ _

* * *

__Bodies lying all around him was just something he was going to have to get used to, Steve supposed. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was part of war. It was necessary, and so he had no plans to stop._ _

__Killing the men who had worked here and made this hellish place possible was even more necessary than any other battle. Steve didn’t enjoy it, but he would get it done._ _

__The trouble was that he didn’t know how much longer it would take to get all of this done. There always seemed to be more running up, more firing at him, more appearing no matter how many he shot. At some point, one of them would get in a lucky shot. At some point, his shield wouldn’t be enough to protect him. After that, it would be all over._ _

__But he didn’t have to kill all of them. He didn’t even have to kill most, though at the rate this fight was going, he suspected he would. He just had to keep going until he got Dugan’s signal, and then he would be free to bolt and lose them if he could._ _

__Until then, though, he had to hold onto his bottleneck. He had to keep his back against the wall._ _

__He wondered whether Imke’s husband was out there shooting at him now. He wondered whether the man was already dead._ _

__The night was fading into a strange dreamlike state. Steve felt as though he could have gone on forever. He wondered whether maybe he was._ _

__And then everything stopped._ _

__Steve tentatively lifted his head. No one was firing at him. Instead, the Nazis stood in shock, staring at their guns, which hovered a few feet above them, just beyond their reach._ _

__A shot rang out, then another. With each one, Steve flinched, but none of the bullets came anywhere close to him. Instead, one by one, the Nazis dropped. Some turned and tried to run, either toward their attacker or away, but by then Steve had gotten over his surprise. He and the mystery shooter make quick work of them, and in the end, only three men were left standing._ _

__Well, two men and a half-starved boy._ _

__“Steve?” Bucky called. Steve could have laughed in relief. “You all right over there?”_ _

__“I’m fine!” he called back. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to meet up with Jim!”_ _

__“Change of plans.” Bucky ran to meet him, the boy in tow. When they drew closer, Steve saw that the boy was older than he had seemed from afar. He must have been at least a teenager. Bucky clapped a hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched, but only slightly. “That little hovering trick you saw? That was all him.”_ _

__Steve looked at the boy in amazement, but before he could say anything, Bucky had a hand on his shoulder and was all but pushing him through the wall._ _

__“We can figure out what the hell’s going on later,” he said. “Right now, we need to get to the rendezvous point, and fast. Jim knows we’ll be coming from another direction, but in the dark, there’s no telling what will happen. Better we get there sooner than later.”_ _

__Steve couldn’t argue with that, and they set off at a run._ _


End file.
